With You
by laughingmagician
Summary: Harry Potter, 6th year, not HBP compatible. What happens when Draco and Hermione are trapped underground with only each other's help to survive?
1. Chapter 1

**With You**

An original Harry Potter fan fiction

**written by: J**ennifer S. a.k.a. AssassinElektra

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Harry Potter movies or books, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other Harry Potter fans.

**Title**: With You

**Genre**: Action/Adventure, Romance,

**Setting**: 6th Year

**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione

**Rating: **Teen

**Author's Note:** Not compatible with HBP since I'm only 2/3 of the way through it.

**Chapter 1**

There was war raging all around them, circling around the Dark Lord and the 'Chosen One' as they fought to decide the fate of the world. Ronald Weasley laid on the ground, unconscious as his two best friends continued to battle for their lives, his eye blacked and his nose gushing with dark blood.

Harry Potter kept his wand steady and his eyes on Voldemort, but it wasn't until he felt Ginny's hand reaching out for him that he felt strong enough to defeat his most bitter enemy. Voldemort turned to the side to reprimand one of his own men for failing and killed him, then proceeded to kill George Weasley, the wizard who had bested him. But George fought, nodding to Harry as if to tell him something.

Harry Potter turned and looked at Ginny Weasley, suddenly wishing he had time to tell her everything. But as there was no time, and George was no doubt sacrificing his life for the few moments he now had, Harry merely grabbed her gently, pulling her into a sweeping kiss, a kiss that said everything he had wanted to. When he pulled away and ran off to help George, Ginny stood there for a moment, suddenly realizing that what she had felt for so long had just been proven to be returned. A smile crossed her lips as she held her wand out and cursed an approaching Death Eater with newfound strength and vigor.

Hermione Granger waged her own battle not far from Ginny and Harry. But amazingly enough, she was the most surrounded witch on the whole battlefield. The Death Eaters had seen her as a special threat, as she had aided Potter so many times before and proven more than once that blood didn't make the witch's skills.

But she fought them off, taking her time as she faced them one by one. And they obliged to her style, wanting to be the 'one' wizard or witch to take the infamous Granger down.

Who would have thought that the final battle would take place there, on the Hogwart's grounds where so many students had always felt absolutely safe? But now they fought for their lives, a failing battle, and once they realized that, they fought merely to buy Harry some more time.

But Hermione not only fought for Harry's need to get the Dark Lord alone, she fought for herself. Every strike was a reprimand for a muttered 'mudblood whore!' comment or a dirty glance that would have killed had looks been able, and for once in her life, the innocent Hermione Granger sought nothing more than vengeance.

He watched her from a distance, his look radiating more hatred than it ever had before, taking the meaning of the word to new levels. He could smell his hatred for her in the surrounding sweating bodies, he could taste it in the copper blood that clung to the inside of his mouth and tongue and teeth, he could see it reflected by her mere presence, the way she moved and breathed. And as Draco Malfoy pushed and shoved fighting wizards and witches aside to get to Hermione, taking no care to see whose side those pushed were on, his hatred rapidly grew as he watched Death Eater after Death Eater fall at her hands.

No doubt she was powerful, that she was the most powerful witch on the field, but he wasn't afraid of her. Any fear he had ever had of Granger had been swallowed out of spite before it was even born.

She was an angel fighting on the battlefield, her white robe—her way of boldly, and stupidly, showing she fought for the light—flooding around her in liquid movements with every twist of her body. And her hair, tamed by the grace of a newly discovered controlling spell, spilled down her shoulders and flipped around as she moved her head. Her green eyes were crying tears of blood, and a single drop fell from her nose, signs of the energy she poured into her spells.

Fighting, all bloodied up, with a cut running down her left cheek, and her right eyebrow torn open, her bottom lip swollen, and her hands charred from the curses she called out of her wand, Draco actually thought she looked quite beautiful. Her beauty lied in the fact that she was about to die. But he was going to bathe in this angel's blood, after he tainted it of course.

Hermione gave no thought to the hexes and curses she shouted out, and her breathing was hard as she moved back and forth, standing her ground as she faced anyone who came near her. And then she heard it. The one sound, that Hermione Granger had dreaded hearing.

Snapping her head to look towards Ginny, Hermione caught sight of the younger girl, who had long ago become a sister, as she fell to the ground, her eyes opened wide in lifeless reflex.

"Ginny!" She heard Harry's voice above everything, and for a moment the battle seemed to stop as everyone watched Potter walk over to the body of the only girl he'd ever loved. Even the Dark Lord seemed to pause what he was doing to watch the spectacle with amusement gleaming in his all-too-human eyes.

"No." Harry sobbed, quietly, holding Ginny Weasley's body in his arms. "Nooo!" His scream echoed, and what few animals had stayed in the nearby Dark Forest now ran off, sensing the disturbance. Hermione watched her friend, and caught his eyes only for a moment, trying to remind him with her look that he had a job to do.

They were members of the Order, fighting for the light, and right now they had to destroy Voldemort and those that followed him and nothing else. There would be plenty of time to mourn later, no matter who won in the end, as both sides had all ready lost great numbers of warriors.

But Harry shook his head and looked back at Ginny, not wanting to let her go even though Hermione had told him to with the look in her eyes. Her tears of blood were mixed with salty tears as she began to weep with him from a distance. And Hermione almost fell to her knees, but then Harry looked up and saw the smiling figure who had taken Ginny's life. His glare was full of so much hatred that everyone except for Lucius and his Dark Lord took a step back away from him.

Harry tried to yell an insult at the senior Malfoy, tried to think of words that would hurt him enough to do justice to Ginny's loss, but nothing came to mind. So he yelled the words that had become second nature in the last few hours and killed Luscious. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The ground shook as Harry Potter's broken heart was thrown into the curse along with his pure hatred for Lucius Malfoy. There was a rippling affect, and no one was left standing—not even Voldemort himself—save Potter after the green energy broke through the ground.

Hermione gasped in shock as she fell into seemingly waiting arms, but she began to struggle after realizing that those arms meant her nothing but harm. She glanced helplessly to her left and saw her wand lying in the wreckage, broken into three pieces, and her tears began to fall tenfold.

"Don't struggle, mudbood!" Draco hissed, yanking her to her feet. "You've all ready lost." He said smugly, his mouth disgustingly right by her ear. "And I've got you now."

But Hermione did not stop struggling. If anything, she doubled her effort and started thrashing out at Malfoy with all the strength she had left. He laughed at her attempts, knowing that without her wand and angry adrenaline to keep her fighting, he was much stronger, always had been. He reveled in that fact, crushing her body to his as she tried to escape.

And then suddenly, just as quickly as his control over her had been gained, it was taken, and they were falling, falling downwards towards darkness. Then there was pain and pressure, both unbearable, as Hermione and Draco were buried in the rubble.

Above them the war raged on, the combatants careful to avoid the small hole that had collapsed over the old Hogwart's underground passage. No one had witnessed their fall, no one had any idea where they were.

And as Hermione found herself slipping into the realm of unconsciousness, her last thought was of Ron, lying above her on the ground somewhere, where he too fought for his life. But then the darkness took hold, and she knew nothing but the surrounding blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**With You**

An original Harry Potter fan fiction

**Written by: **Jennifer S. a.k.a. AssassinElektra

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Harry Potter movies or books, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other Harry Potter fans.

**Title**: With You

**Genre**: Action/Adventure, Romance,

**Setting**: 6th Year

**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione

**Rating: **Teen

**Author's Note: **

**Been a while since I gave personal shot-outs, but here goes:**

**Depressionisanillusion- **Thanks for the review! Glad to hear my writing is different, no author wants to hear that theirs is the same as everyone else. I'm curious as to why you think it's different though? Send me and e-mail or post a review on here and let me know if you get the chance. And, yeah, I was sad about Ginny too, but I needed something that would drive Harry over the edge.

**Alana84-** Thanks for reading my fic! Checked out your profile and saw that you're a huge DA fan and a M/A shipper—me too!

**Draco's life long love 1990- **Thanks for the comment on my talent. It always makes me feel good to hear it! Smiles

**Nanie-san**- Thanks for the heads-up on Lucius's name. My spellcheck must have snuck in and changed it for me. Went back and fixed it though. And like I said before, Ginny had to die because it was the one thing that would drive Harry completely insane.

**Anyway, thanks to all who are reading this whether you're reviewing or not! Please send me any comments/suggestions you have for the chapters **

**Chapter 2**

He wasn't sure who woke up first, but he did notice that Hermione's eyes were open as he sat up and looked over at her. They had been lucky enough to only be covered with the smaller bits of debris—enough to bruise them but not to pin them down or destroy limbs.

As soon as she notice he was awake, Hermione began to stare daggers at Malfoy. She didn't say anything for the longest time, and then she whispered. "We're trapped, Draco."

"So we're on a first name bases now since we're both trapped in this bloody hallway or whatever it is, _Hermione_?" He spat, glaring at her as he brushed himself off and stood up. Draco tried to make his wincing something that she would not notice, but she took pleasure at the sight of her enemy in pain.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" She asked him, her eyes gleaming as she noticed a cut on his forehead. He hand followed her gaze to the wound, but he yanked it back at the sharp pain that touching the open cut caused.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Malfoy asked her, waiting for an answer.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione scoffed and looked around. "We're trapped down here, and no one noticed us fall!"

"Well why not?" Malfoy asked. "Wouldn't you notice two people getting swallowed by the ground?"

"Not if I were fighting for my life against a bunch of stupid Death Eaters!" Hermione snapped. That comment made Malfoy smile. She was the best witch of their year, and stupid was the only word she could think of to describe her enemy's servants?

"Potter's going to lose." He said, when she glared at his grin.

"Harry is pretty angry with him right now." Hermione said, looking away in disgust. "Don't underestimate the power and strength of pure rage, Malfoy." That was better, as long as she called him by his last name it didn't remind him of who he was.

"And you would know." Malfoy reached up and touched his jaw where Hermione had punched him only three years before. He chuckled, remembering the fire in her eyes as she had spat some insult to him before taking the swing.

Hermione glared at him again, then stood up. She looked around, studying the rubble for a way out. "There'll be no way to get up directly." She stated. "We'll have to follow the passage and go through the school."

"Always knew there was more to this place than they told us." Malfoy said, giving the long passage an impressed look.

"Just shut up and follow me." Hermione snapped, as she started taking slow steps down the dark hallway. Draco was troubled by the stiffness of her movements. There was not more liquid vengeance driving her to fight, no more will to kill those who harmed her gleaming in her eyes. The beautiful Amazonian warrior that he'd seen before they'd fallen was gone, swallowed up by a frightened little girl.

They were just kids. How Voldemort had expected Draco to be one of his best warriors was still beyond him. The Dark Lord had threatened him with violent punishments enough to remind him, though, that he was no child around his master. But then Draco had always known that kind of pain.

"Funny." He commented absent-mindedly, and Hermione shot him a questioning look. "It's funny how my father was the one to kill that little red-headed runt after everything that's happened."

Hermione had grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the brick wall roughly before Malfoy had the chance to stop her, and then she was squeezing his neck, fighting the air he tried to breathe.

"Don't you ever!" She pressed his head harder against the wall, and from the pain it caused Draco guessed he had a cut there too. "Speak of Ginny like that!"

"There she is." Draco said, laughing quietly as Hermione backed away from him. "The little fighting witch I saw up there." He pointed towards the ceiling. "Wondered how long before she came out to play."

"Make no mistake, Malfoy." Hermione said, every word she spoke dripping with bitterness and grief. "We are still at war. You and I may be working together to get out of here, but once we're out I will show no mercy. I will inflict upon you a torturous pain that you will not be able to survive." It was a cold threat, but it was not empty. Draco knew she was true to her word, just as Hermione knew she would go through with it at all costs.

"What do you know about torture?" He snapped, making the witch back away from him. "Listen, Granger, while you and your little friends were frolicking and watching Quidditch games, I spent my summers trying not to piss off the most evil devil alive!"

"It's not my fault you decided to work for Voldemort, Draco." Hermione said, as she started walking again. Enraged, he followed her.

"I'm not talking about Vol…the Dark Lord." Draco said, and the fact that he'd dismissed her usage of his first name made Hermione glance at his face to see what he was feeling. The look he gave her was racked with emotion, but it gave nothing directly away.

"Did you honestly think that Ginny was the only person to ever be hurt my Lucius?" Malfoy demanded, his voice rising in anger. "Are you really that daft?"

"You mean your father…"

"Yes!" He yelled, and once it was said he was breathing heavy, trying to recover from the horrible memories that kept playing in his mind and sending shivers of phantom pain through his body.

Hermione's eyes softened as she studied the Slytherin. She had considered the idea that Lucius would physically beat his son, but the idea of him hexing the boy had never crossed her mind. She knew form reading that there were quite a few pain spells known to the wizard community, and who knew what Lucius had come up with on his own after so many years of hurting others?

She felt sorry for Draco right there, as his eyes almost betrayed his cool exterior. He was near tears, and Hermione could see it. The subject was a sore one for him, one that brought back vivid memories—some probably as recent as that very day.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think that…" Hermione looked at the ground. Had she really just apologized to a Malfoy?

"I don't want you're pity, Granger." Draco said, his hateful expression returning as he recovered. "Just know that whatever pain you inflict on me if the chance ever arrives, I've felt worse by the man who gave me my very life."

They began walking again, in silence. Hermione stuck on her thoughts of how horrible a man Lucius really was, and Draco trying to fight the memories of that very same wizard. And it was in that moment, stealing a glance at Draco's determined face, that Hermione realized that perhaps his motives for becoming a Death Eater had not been his own. Free will was obviously a luxury that a Malfoy could not indulge in.

She spoke softly to him. "Do you have your wand?" She asked, and Malfoy looked down at his robes, frantically looking for it.

"Bloody hell, it must have gotten lost in the wreckage!" He snapped. "Well, I guess that makes us both unarmed." Draco announced, sounding a bit relieved by the idea.

"I need to rest for a minute." Hermione told him as she practically fell to sit on the ground. It was cold and made of stones, and not entirely comfortable against her wounds, but she was grateful to sit down.

Draco sat down as well, his back leaning against the opposite wall, and he looked at Hermione. Sensing that his blue eyes were focused on her, she looked away, pretending to pay more attention to a cut on her arm.

Hermione took off her outer robe, tore a piece off of the end, and tied it around her arm to stop the bleeding. Then she started tearing the robe into shreds to cover other wounds. Malfoy watched her in great interest.

She was wearing muggle clothing under her white robe—jeans and a plain black shirt that complimented her various curves. Draco was surprised to see what she was wearing. She was a witch, after all, and she'd been fighting against the darkest wizard to ever live in jeans?

He watched Hermione do her best to clean her wounds—all but those on her face, which she seemed to have forgotten entirely. It was then that he felt various stings throughout his body as his wounds became to ache.

Hermione watched Malfoy take his outer robe off and copy what she had done with hers, tearing it for bandages. She was amused at the sight of his school clothes underneath—dark slacks and a Slytherin shirt. But then it had started on school grounds.

"Do you think we'll get to graduate next year?" He asked suddenly, surprising Hermione by his question. "If we survive, that is." He added, catching her eyes.

"I don't know." Hermione answered truthfully. How could she worry about graduating at a time like this, while war raged above their heads? "I don't know if I'll want to go back to school after this." She added.

Draco nodded in understanding. Although traumatic experiences were not unfamiliar to him, he had witnessed some things recently that no sane person would willingly be a part of. Death Eaters were brutal, without mercy, and bloody violent when it came to Potter's followers. But then, they didn't treat their own so good at times either.

"I don't suppose it would be easy to go back after all we've seen." Malfoy said quietly. "And done."

Hermione looked at the ground. That comment applied to her as well as him. She knew she'd taken lives, and used painful curses to do so, but she'd been running on pure hatred and adrenaline. Could she really be held responsible for what she'd done?

"Why do you hate me so much, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, looking at him. He seemed surprised by the question. "Besides the fact that I'm not pure blood." She added bitterly.

"Hermione, I've lived through enough to know that all that nonsense about pure blood is just that, nonsense." He said, and it was her turn to be surprised. "It's true. I can see past the stupidity of the prejudice enough to know you're much better at a lot of magic than I am."

"You're joking." She said, assuring herself that he was merely saying it to get her to trust him.

"No." He said simply. "I guess I've just continued to bother you all these years anyway, because you gave me something to focus on besides the upcoming war." Their eyes met. "I needed a distraction at times." He gave her his signature smirk, and Hermione looked away, embarrassed. "But we're in war now." He continued, his tone turned completely serious. "And any friendliness that was once possible is now gone, swallowed in the fighting."

"Like we ever could have been friends, Malfoy." Hermione scoffed, not noticing the slightly hurt look on his face.

"Guess not." He said. "What with Pothead and Weasel always tagging along to protect you."

"I never needed their protection." She snapped.

"I know." Malfoy replied, and she wasn't sure how to respond to that. "But they needed yours." He smirked at the insult—a complement to her actually, then glanced at the dark hallway. "It's going to take forever to get out of here." He said.

And Hermione was surprised, surprised by the fact that Malfoy was actually acting somewhat human in the horrible situation. They'd been trapped together—two bitter enemies thrown into a locked room—and she knew that the only way they would ultimately make it out was if they worked together. She'd read enough of _Hogwart's: A History_ to know what lurked in the darkness of the long-abandoned underground hallways of the school.


	3. Chapter 3

**With You**

An original Harry Potter fan fiction

**written by: J**ennifer S. a.k.a. AssassinElektra

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Harry Potter movies or books, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other Harry Potter fans.

**Title**: With You

**Genre**: Action/Adventure, Romance,

**Setting**: 6th Year

**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione

**Rating: **Teen

**Author's Note: I hope this conversation they have makes sense. I'm really trying to delve into Draco's complicated character, but I'm trying to keep it realistic. It would only make sense that if Hermione thought she could, she would try to save him from evil, right? Well, read and let me know!**

**Chapter 3**

"We should probably get going again." Malfoy said, after a while. And when Hermione didn't respond, he looked over to find that her eyes were closed in what looked like a painful slumber. "Lucky." He said quietly. "If I could only sleep without the nightmares that have become my life lately." He muttered, looking around at the dark hallway.

"You can still get away from it all, you know." Malfoy jumped at Hermione's voice. She opened her brown eyes and looked at him. "It's not too late to fight with us."

"Granger, it was too late for me to fight for the good the night I was conceived." Malfoy snapped. How could she not understand that? Did she really not know that the only reason Lucius had ever had a child was to please his Dark Lord with another servant? She _was_ ignorant.

"Haven't you ever considered joining us?" She asked, a fire sparkling in her eyes as she spoke of those she fought beside. "I mean, even if only for a moment."

Malfoy thought about it for a few seconds. He could tell her the truth and break down any barriers of her possible view of him as strong, or he could lie and keep his image. In the end, the Slytherin in him spoke before he could bite his tongue. "Never." He spat.

"Oh." Hermione was surprised. She'd always thought of Draco as cold and heartless, but in the last few minutes he'd shown her more of his emotionally bruised personality than in all the years they'd hated each other. She had thought that he would have at least considered fighting for the good. The idea that he had not was a bit disappointing.

"But why are we talking about this anyway?" Draco snapped. "I mean, here we are, trapped in the bottom of a school we've lived in for the last six years, away from all the fighting for the first time in weeks, and we can find nothing to talk about but the war?" He sounded so bitter, but fragile in a way as well. Hermione's curiosity picked up on the possible feelings he was having.

"Well, did you expect for us to have a civilized conversation, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, trying to sound annoyed. But she was pushing him, trying to delve deeper into his labyrinth of denial and show him who he truly was in the process. "Over tea, maybe?" She raised an eyebrow at his glare.

"Well, yes!" He snapped, sighing and looking at the ground. "I mean, all we've ever done is made bloody rude remarks to each other. I thought maybe, since we're an inch away from death and all, we could have a _real_ conversation." He was breathing heavy, the pain of his wounds making merely talking almost unbearable.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" Hermione said, amused.

"And what would you know about me? Huh?" He snapped, looking away. His hostility was not at all new, but for some reason Hermione was bothered by it more than ever.

"I know you probably wouldn't have become a Death Eater if you'd been born into another family." She said suddenly. And there it was. The stone was dropped, now it was time to see how deep the well ran. Hermione waited for him to reply.

Draco looked at her, then looked away, opening his mouth to speak twice but for some reason unable to say anything at all. He hadn't expected Granger to pick up on a possibility like that. He'd expected her to dissect him, of course, try to learn what he was all about, because that was what she did: learn. But he hadn't expected her to see what he himself had often doubted was even there: the _good_ in him.

Finally, he spoke quietly. "Thank you." They were two words he'd not uttered to anyone besides Voldemort, Lucius, and his mother. And he'd only ever meant it when speaking to his mother. He almost choked on the words, as if they were lodged in his windpipe, fighting to stay inside.

Hermione's face softened a great deal and she walked over and sat next to him. "Draco," He didn't stop her from using his first name, "We all have two sides of ourselves. One that we embrace, and one that we fight against." He looked at her, wondering what she was getting at. "But one side is always stronger, whether you've chosen it or not. I chose my good side, but I won't lie to you. I've indulged by bad side more than I should have." She looked at the darkness that was the end of the hallway.

"But you," She continued, almost in a whisper, "You weren't given a choice of which side to follow." She looked up at him with empathy in her eyes. "Your father never gave you that choice."

Was he really going to let her do this? Was he really going to let Hermione Granger tell him why he'd decided to become a Death Eater at only 16, why he'd all ready killed hundreds of innocent witches and wizards, not to mention a couple ignorant muggles. Was he, a Malfoy, really going to let her do this?

"Don't pretend to know me, Granger!" He snapped, standing up and backing away from her. They had come too close to being human with each other, and that felt wrong to him. He knew it shouldn't have, but it did, because it was a foreign concept for a Malfoy.

"I'm not." She said, her voice just as strong, just as sure as his, only not angry. He had just bitten her head off and she was still trying to be nice to him? Draco was both confused and flattered. Granger thought he was still a person after all he had done. Who ever would have thought that possible?

"Well then, why did you…"

"You wanted to have a conversation, Malfoy." She reminded him gently. And there it was again. She should have been mean to him, should have retaliated with angry words and harsh insults, but she was being _nice_! Perhaps there was more to the muggle-born than he'd ever considered.

"Granger, when you look at me, what do you see?" He asked her, and it was a loaded question. He knew that, knew what answers she could throw at him. But he had a point to make.

"I'm a Slytherin!" He reminded her. "My whole family's been Slytherin's for ages. All I've ever been told is that I'm better than every other witch and wizard out there! All I've ever known is the world my father created for me! And the only thing I've ever felt is hate. No regret, no guilt or remorse—which a _good_ person would feel after the things that I have seen and done, mind you!" His face grew red as he tried to argue his case. "I am _not_ a good person, Hermione! I never was, and I never will be! It's just not in my blood! So, stop trying to save me, or whatever you think you're doing, because I am _beyond_ saving!"

Draco breathed deeply and looked at her, waiting for her reaction. The fact that he had used her first name hadn't yet occurred to him in his cloud of irritation. Hermione looked at him, her eyes still softened from the normal glare she gave him.

"You're wrong, you know." She told him quietly.

"Oh, don't start this again!" Draco said, rolling his eyes. "You really should…"

"This," She pointed to a cut on her hand, at the blood, "This does not determine who you are! If it did I would just be a normal muggle going about my life, completely ignorant of the war that's raging above us, Malfoy! You said so yourself that you understand it isn't blood that makes the witch or wizard. Why can't you see that this applies to you as well?" She was pleading with him. Hermione Granger was actually pleading with him.

"Because it doesn't apply to me." He told her quietly. "I'm a Malfoy. Or have you forgotten that?" He threw her such an intense glare that for a moment Hermione actually feared he was going to strike out at her. But that moment passed with his frustrated sigh.

"We really should keep going." He told her, all rage fallen away from his voice now, replaced with a coldness that stung Hermione's heart. She'd tried to get through to him, but maybe it really _was_ too late for Draco. Maybe he couldn't walk away from the things he had done and seen.

"Yes." Hermione said, falling into step behind him.

They walked slowly, both trying to ignore the pain of their wounds. But it was hard work to walk, let alone dismiss the ripping, searing sensation of wounds that needed to be still to heal being torn open as they moved.

"I should warn you…" Hermione started after a while, but fell silent at the questioning look that Draco gave her. "I read in _Hogwarts: A History_…"

"Of course you did." He remarked sarcastically, but she ignored his comment and finished.

"That these passageways once led to a prison." She told him. And when he didn't reply, she continued. "The Ministry thought that Hogwarts would be the perfect place to house the worst criminals, those even too horrible for Azkaban." Hermione told him. "No one would suspect a school to be the location of such a dungeon…"

"I know." Draco said, almost casually, and Hermione stopped walking, shocked.

"Did you read about it?" She asked, once he had realized she'd stopped and was looking back at her.

"No." He said. "But the Slytherin common room is part of the old dungeon. The ghosts like to tell tales." He smirked, thinking back. "Every once in a while we'd get a particularly nasty poltergeist and the headmaster would have to scare it away." He added, amused by the horrified look on her face.

"You mean, you lived with…with the ghosts of the prisoners?" She asked. "They walked around in your common room?"

"Oh come on, Granger." He said, smiling at her. "They can't hurt you once they're dead, right? They'd just make a lot of noise, scare the first years. There was only ever one fatality."

"Fatality?" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean, the ghosts have killed?"

"It's not big deal." Draco said. "Happened centuries ago." He did not understand why she was so shocked about it all. It was common knowledge among the Slytherins, and he'd always assumed every other House had their ghosts as well. "Oh, don't tell me they didn't cover this in your precious _Hogwarts: A History_?" He remarked, faking shock. He laughed at the look on her face.

"It's not funny, Malfoy." She snapped, and they started walking again. Draco looked at her, studied her face, and was relieved to see some of her old vigor returning behind her wounds. She was still Hermione Granger, and he was still Draco Malfoy, regardless of what situation they were in, and pestering her was just…well, fun!

"So, you and Weasel finally got together, eh?" He asked, casually, knowing it would spark irritation.

"Yes. And his name is Ron, Malfoy." She insisted, glaring at the darkness before them. She didn't bother looking at Draco, because she knew that he was purposely trying to provoke her.

"I didn't think he'd have the guts to ever ask you out, myself." Draco commented. "Always thought he'd just watch you grow stronger than he could ever possible hope to be and never do anything about the way he felt."

He was a little surprised to see Hermione smile. But the smile faded away as the cut on her lip began to bleed. "I asked him, actually." She said, the amusement in her voice making up for her lacking smile. She reached down to remove one of her bandages to stop her lip from bleeding, but Draco noticed that all the cuts that were bandaged needed them worse than her lip.

"Here." He said, handing her a piece of the small shreds of his robes that he'd stuffed in his pockets. She took it with a shaky hand and placed it on her lip, exchanging a curious look with him before he forced himself to look away.

"Don't take this as us being friends." He said suddenly, still avoiding looking at her. "I just didn't want you bleeding all over the place, is all."

"Sure, Malfoy." Hermione said teasingly.

"Woman, you are bloody impossible, you know that?" He asked, looking at her suddenly.

"I've been told that a few times." She said, laughing quietly. "But you know, I'm not the enemy Draco." She added, in all seriousness. Their eyes met, and for a moment neither of them spoke, moved, or even breathed it seemed. And then Draco looked away.

"Are you going to keep doing that?" He snapped.

"What?" Hermione asked, honestly not sure of what he was talking about.

"Using my first name, like we've always been friendly?" Draco explained, looking at her. Truth be told Hermione hadn't even realized she'd used his first name. But she wasn't going to let him know that.

"Well, as long as we're trapped down here, and we're having real conversations and all," She smiled, despite her cut, "I think using our first names isn't such a bad idea."

"Well, now it isn't, but why did you use it when I first woke up?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow as he waited for the answer.

"I thought we were dead." She answered truthfully, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't think it was right to call you Malfoy if we were about to die together."

"Do you honestly think we're going to die down here?" Draco asked, masking the real fear behind his words with a false smugness.

"I don't know." She admitted.

"Well, that has got to be a first." Draco remarked, and they both smiled. "Honestly, woman, I thought _you_ knew everything." He added teasingly.

And while they walked down the passageway, hoping to find a way out soon, they almost forgot about the war raging above them. Because at that moment there was just her and him, and for the first time since they'd met, they were enjoying each other's company.

6


	4. Chapter 4

**With You**  
An original Harry Potter fan fiction

**written by:** Jennifer S. a.k.a. AssassinElektra

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Harry Potter movies or books, or their characters. This is a fan fiction story meant only for the enjoyment of myself and other Harry Potter fans.

**Title**: With You

**Genre**: Action/Adventure, Romance,

**Setting**: 6th Year

**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione

**Rating: **Teen

**Author's Note:** _Still not compatible with HBP since I'm only 2/3 of the way through it._** Sorry for the long wait guys! College has been claiming my time more and more lately! As always, please, please, please review! You're all giving such wonderful reviews (used to getting stupid, non-descriptive one-liners, lol) so please keep it up!**

**Chapter 4**

They had to rest again. Their wounds weren't exactly making it easy to walk, and if they got too weak to continue, both Hermione and Draco knew their fate would be horrible. So they would take some time and rest.

Hermione laid down on the floor, using her bent arm for a pillow, and she looked at Malfoy where he sat across the hall. His face showed how tortured he was. There was so much more to Draco Malfoy than Hermione had ever noticed before.

She noticed his eyes for the first time. They were actually quite beautiful. An icy blue mixed with a vivid green in a most appealing combination. Hermione smiled, wondering why she'd never noticed before.

"What?" Malfoy asked, picking up on her change in mood.

"Nothing." She replied. No need to give him a compliment. He didn't want her help at all, and he would probably think a compliment was her shady way of trying to 'save him' again.

"You're a great witch, Hermione," It was odd using her first name, but he felt the need to for some reason, even if she hadn't suggested it he would have. "But you're a horrible liar."

"Well, deception was never one of my strong suits." She agreed. "But _you've_ always been sly."

"Not always." Malfoy thought back to his tattered childhood. "I used to think that the reason my father worshipped Voldemort was because of the power he offered. But as I got older I started to realize it wasn't that at all." He'd gotten her interest, and Hermione listened, waited for Malfoy to continue. "He just wanted someone to follow, someone who would make it so that he wouldn't have to think and feel horrible for the things he did."

Was this Draco Malfoy admitting to his own guilt in his round-about way? Hermione kept her eyes on him. "It was an excuse to be a monster, because if your life was threatened you obviously had to do those horrible things."

The world of Death Eaters was not completely alien to Hermione, but this was a point of view she'd never been given before. "Sometimes…" Malfoy looked down at the tattoo on his arm that marked him as a servant of the Dark Lord, "It starts to fade a bit, and I know that's when he's remembering what it was like to be human. Voldemort thinks humanity makes you weak, and yet he can not hide his own from those closest and most valiantly devoted to him."

"But the mark always comes back darker, as if he's making up for the momentary weakness, building better defenses for the next time." Draco commented. "I know he was a man once, but part of me wonders if that's even true. How can you be a man and enjoy doing the things he does and encourages? There's no honor in what he does."

Malfoy paused, looking at the tattoo still, his eyes narrowing and turning darker. "And I wonder every day, why Potter? Of all the wizards out there, why was it bleedin' Potter?" Draco said, looking away from his arm finally and at Hermione. "But then I remember, I know, it's because Potter has it in him. The goodness. The light."

Hermione felt tears form in her eyes. "He's not better than you." Hermione said, not really even thinking before she'd said it.

"Thank you for saying that." Malfoy said, giving her a weak smile. "But you and I both know that's not true, luv."

How could she reply to that? Well, there were many ways. Only hours before she would have replied with a horrid curse had she her wand. But things were different now. Here was Draco Malfoy, showing his vulnerable side without even meaning to. Or maybe he did mean to. The second thought frightened her for some reason. So, a change of subject was in order.

"What do you want to do when we graduate?" She asked him.

"I'm a bloody Deatheater, Hermione." He reminded her, his face showing how unamused he was by her question.

"I didn't ask what you are or what your father's forcing you to become, Draco." She said a bit sternly. "I asked what you _want_ to do."

Her tone caught him by surprise, that much was evident in the look he gave her. He hadn't expected her to be so straight with him. His entire life Draco had known nothing but half truths and false fact, all the while forced to face the reality of things that ignorant to them. But Hermione wasn't playing games. She said what she meant.

But the answer would make her laugh, certainly. And why not? It was silly… However, as he presently had nothing more to lose, Draco decided to answer her. "I want to teach." He said.

"Really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out how this had happened.

"Yes." He told her.

"What do you want to teach?"

"Doesn't bloody matter." He said, but he wasn't being rude, this he actually meant. "Just so that I'm teaching."

"Are you sure you have enough patients for that sort of thing?" Hermione asked, teasingly.

"Well, I could end up destroying the little prats, but I doubt it." Malfoy smiled and looked at her. "Seriously though, I'd love to teach. Helping people learn about the world around them, that's true power."

Hermione was, to say the least, impressed. "You're such an enigma." She told him, thinking aloud.

"I think I've heard that before." He told her, amusement rising in his voice.

So they were in pain, so they were bloody and bruised from a war that in reality had nothing to do with them as the people they were, it didn't matter in that moment. Because once more there was just Hermione and Draco, talking to each other like civilized people.

Hermione thought sadly of what would happen once they found a way out. They'd go their separate ways, both returning to their armies to fight once more. And maybe they'd see each other again on the battlefield, and a look of understanding would pass between them. Or maybe they'd never see each other again, and they'd always wonder what could have been if the war had never happened. She didn't know which instance was worse.

"You know, I've been thinking," Malfoy said, looking down the dark hallway. "Why did this happen to you and I?" He looked at Hermione. "Why now, in the middle of a possibly final battle were we torn away from the fight?" He scoffed and looked at the roof. "Maybe someone was looking out for us." He looked down at her again. "But I doubt it."

"Or maybe we both have a greater purpose than to kill and be killed, Draco." Hermione told him quietly.

"You and I, we truly are the best of each side. I'm the youngest successful Deatheater, and you've handed more wizard's their asses than I can count." It was a compliment, a major compliment. But, like his usual attempts, was not straight forward. "And we both know Potter's fulfilling his bloody destiny right now, or else he'd be down here with us. So, yeah, maybe there is someone intervening, giving us a shove in the right direction."

"Funny how it ended up happening this way though." He said. "I would have preferred a less painful way." He winced, touching a cut on his arm.

Hermione smiled. "Well, the best things in life are never easy." She said. "Nor comfortable."

"Oh I don't know." Malfoy said. "I'm glad it's you down here talking to me rather than Wease..." He saw the look on her face, "Weasley." He said, actually using Ron's real name for once. "If it were him one of us would be dead by now."

She laughed quietly. "Yes, I imagine that would be quite a dangerous mix. Like throwing two cats in a bag and shaking it." Hermione commented. "Is my company so tolerable though? You've always hated it before…"

"Look, woman, by now you should know that the way I act about something isn't always the way I feel about it." He told her quietly. She thought she understood what he was saying and could find no words to reply.


	5. Chapter 5

**With You **

**Chapter 5**

"It was snowing." Draco said quietly. Hermione glanced over at him curiously, but said nothing. "It was snowing the first time my father cursed me." Draco continued, looking up at her. "I couldn't play outside, because it was too cold. I'd been chasing one of the house elfs around, and I'd accidentally scuffed his broom. It was unforgivable."

"How..." Hermione hesitated. "How old were you?"

He looked down at the ground for a moment, as if trying to figure out the answer himself. "Four maybe?" Draco answered, trying to remember. "I'm not bloody certain, but I know I was young." He looked at her again. "I never ran around the house after that."

Hermione just looked at him sympathetically, not sure what to say. She was, of course, confused as to why he was sharing this with her. But then she realized, sadly, that he had probably only just admitted to himself the reality of their situation. They were not going to survive this.

"My mother, she never looked at him admirably," Draco explained. "Always in fear, always trying to anticipate what he wanted before he ordered it, because if she was slow with something even as simple as bringing his tea he got furious. I often wondered why she had even married the bastard."

He sighed. "It wasn't love. There was no love between them. It was all _blood_. Keeping the wizarding world _pure_. That's what they used to tell me anyway." Draco looked right into Hermione s eyes.

"I don t want your pity," He informed her quietly. But it was not a hostile comment like usual. This time the look on his face was softened. He seemed tired, exhausted really. "I just thought that you would want to know, being as curious as you always are." He offered her a slight smile.

"I'm sorry," Hermione told him quietly. And it wasn't pity, it was true sorrow for a boy who had never had a childhood or any choice in the matter.

Draco looked up at the ceiling and imagined what must be going on above them. "Me too," He told her, thinking of the person he could have been had he been born into another family.

"You were almost free from all of this," Draco said quietly, after they'd sat for quite a while in silence.

"From what?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"This war," he replied, looking up at the ceiling. "You could have lived a normal, muggle life."

Hermione laughed quietly. "But it would have been dreadfully boring." Draco looked up at the smile on her face and couldn't help but smile himself.

"Yes, you and Potter seem to keep things exciting each year," he commented. Truth be told he'd wished for a life a bit like hers. Every summer she was able to return to the muggle world and forget about Voldemort and Potter. But he was reminded each and every day of what was going on in the Wizarding world and what his part in all of it was.

"You know, when my mother died," Draco started quietly, "I felt lost for the longest time. She'd been the only one who'd ever shown me genuine kindness." Hermione sat in silence as she listened to him, not mentioning that his mother had been killed, and trying not to think about how Snape had been the one to kill her. "And then I started to think about it, and I realized that I'd always truly been lost." Draco continued, "The world w..._I_ live in, it's nothing but chaos. There is no order to it. There is no motive other than to survive and please _him_." He didn't want to use Voldemort's name, and around Hermione he realized he didn't have to. It was a great comfort.

"There is no other way than pain and hatred, and there is no light. It's all darkness." He looked at the floor for a moment, eyes glazed over as he thought back. "I envy you, Hermione." It was still odd to hear him use her name, but she was finding that she was starting to get used to it. "You have friends that truly care about you, who really are your friends. I've nothing but suck-ups who wish to get in on everything my father is a part of and forced acquaintances that hate me but believe in what I am supposed to stand for."

"And when it's all said and done, when the fighting's finally over," Draco said, looking right into her eyes as he spoke, "You'll still have your friends regardless of which side wins. I'll have nothing."

Hermione stood up slowly, stiffly, and walked over to sit next to him. For a moment they sat there, neither looking at the other, and then, very slowly, Hermione's hand slid over to cover his, which rested on the floor at his side. She wanted to comfort him, and she was unsure of how to do it. Perhaps a bit of human kindness would help.

He actually flinched at her touch, nearly pulling away completely, but for once in his life Draco made himself stop before he acted on his first impulse.

"When the war is over," Hermione said, speaking so quietly he could only hear her because she sat next to him now, "there will be no going back." She turned her head to look at him. "We're not children anymore. We can't go back to normal lives. I won't be able to go back and live at my house, and you won't be able to go back to living the life you had. I doubt if any of us will be able to go back to Hogwart's. Everything has been changed this year."

There were actually tears in her eyes. "I can't believe some of the things I've done," she admitted. "I've gone against some of my strongest beliefs to defend my friends. I'm not the person I once was."

"No," Draco agreed, looking at her face as a tear slid down her cheek. "But then neither am I." There was a hint of something in his eyes, a silently spoken sentence that told her their short time together had already changed him quite profoundly. Even if he would never admit it.

"I'm afraid," Hermione whispered, closing her hand gently around his. "I'm afraid that that even if he does win, I've lost Harry. And I know I've lost Ron." She looked to the side. "He's been distant for quite some time now. He was there the first time I..." She looked back at Draco. "The first time I _killed_ someone." That was the first time she had ever said it aloud, and the word tasted bitter and ugly, something she did not want to deal with but had to. "And I don t think he's ever quite forgiven me for it," she added.

Hermione tried to smile through her tears. "I think I shattered all the dreams he had for us in that moment. I wasn't the girl he'd thought he loved." She looked at Draco again. "I wanted to tell him, to explain why I'd done it, but he didn't give me the chance. And he didn't speak for days afterwards. To anyone."

Draco listened in silence, fighting against his nature to break in and tell her how much of an idiot Weasley was. He was starting to see how lucky the annoying sidekick was to have a witch like Hermione in love with him. Draco had never had anyone genuinely interested in him, and Weasley seemed to take it for granted.

"Some people can't handle war," Draco finally said. "It eats them up inside and they can't..." He paused, fighting emotions of his own, "They can't breathe even thinking about it." He looked at her, his blue eyes pleading for a lie, for her to tell him that they would make it out and everything would be okay, that the war had just been a horrible dream and they were still sitting in their first year Potion's class ignoring Snape as he explained something they weren't even remotely interested in.

And there was nothing she could tell him. Hermione knew that look, the one he was giving her. Ron and Harry had looked at her the same way millions of times over, asking for a reassurance that was never truly there.

"See?" Hermione said quietly, smiling ever so slightly. "There is some good in you." Draco glanced down at her hand, still resting on his, and he wondered if she was right.

"We need a plan," Draco said, pulling his hand gently away as he stood up. Hermione looked a bit embarrassed but said nothing as she stood up next to him.

"I thought the plan was to get out alive?" She asked, looking a bit confused.

"Well yes, but we re not going to accomplish that by sitting around talking," he replied, snapping at her a bit. Draco sighed. "I just mean we should..." He started to apologize, then fell to the ground, crying out in pain.

"What is it!" Hermione asked, kneeling down next to him as he cradled his arm.

"No!" Draco screamed, and Hermione suddenly realized that he was holding the arm that held the Dark Mark on it. She stood back up and took a step back, watching him carefully. She wanted to help him, but if his Dark Mark was hurting it meant that something bad had or was about to happen. And she wanted no part in it.

"Just stop!" Draco shouted, sitting up, speaking to his arm directly. He lifted his sleeve and saw that the tattoo was glowing a dark green. "Not now!" He hissed.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, wishing she had her wand with her.

Draco paused very suddenly, the pain seemingly gone or no longer affecting him, and he turned to look at her from behind the blonde hair that now hung wildly in his face. His smile started slowly at the corners of his mouth and quickly turned into a sneer. And with the movement of his face, the cut on his forehead began to bleed ever so lightly.

"Hermione Granger," Draco said, standing up, narrowed eyes staying on her. And suddenly Hermione knew that the two of them were not the only people present in the tunnel.


	6. Chapter 6

**With You **

**Chapter 6**

"Draco you're scaring me," Hermione told him, though her voice showed anything but fear. She had quickly moved back into battle mode, ready to protect herself even without her wand.

"Didn't think I'd let Lucius' little brat be the one to take down the legend you've become, did you?" Draco asked.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, then her eyes narrowed and she was glaring at him. "Voldemort." She uttered the word with pure hatred. "Why not come down here and face me yourself rather than hiding behind someone who knows what a fool you truly are?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

He laughed as he looked around. "I'm busy fighting up there, or did you forget that?" He asked her, clearly amused.

She was not entirely sure how Voldemort was controlling Draco, but Hermione guessed it was something along the lines of possession, and she assumed that the Dark Mark was his portal into his servants. When you couldn't cast a spell you used other magics.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked defiantly.

He laughed again, and the sight of Draco's smile-which she had grown fond of-being used by such a vile creature in his amusement, angered her. "You would have been quite an asset on our side," he commented, looking her over the way a judge studies a legendary show horse.

"I'm a person, not a weapon," Hermione told him bitterly, biting her lip to keep from screaming a curse at him that would do no good without her wand.

"Oh yes." He agreed, nodding. "And I'm sure your filthy muggle parents would be happy to hear how you've murdered hundreds of wizards and witches who are, of course, people, not weapons."

"They'll never know of the things I've had to do," she said, both sad and grateful for this.

He smirked and Hermione felt like slapping him. But she knew as well that Draco was still somewhere deep inside of himself, and he would feel anything that she did. "We're not all that different," she commented, fighting the gag reflex that came with the very notion. "You and I. Both born of muggles, both risen to magical excellence."

He backhanded her so hard she fell to the ground, the cut on her lip opened and bleeding again. Hermione stood up slowly and faced him again, unafraid. "Don't you ever!" He hissed, and for the first time, Draco's voice did not sound entirely like his own. Voldemort was gaining more control. "You dirty little mudblood whore! We are _nothing_ alike!" He held his hand out towards her as if to cast a spell without his wand, then seemed to think about it and lowered his arm.

"You're right," Hermione finally agreed, "because the people who follow my lead on the battlefield weren't scared into doing so. I have one thing that you will never get from the wizarding community, and that is respect."

He raised his hand to backhand her again, but hesitated. For a moment it looked as if Draco was going to puke, and then he staggered backwards, hitting the wall hard against his back. Hermione watched him carefully but did not offer a helping hand. Voldemort was not above deceit of the greatest kind, and she would not believe Draco free until he found some way to prove it completely.

He gasped and opened his mouth as if in pain and Hermione smiled. "Harry's winning, isn't he?" The young witch asked, her voice full of pride for her best friend. "He's defeating you."

Draco turned his head to glare at her, his eyes darkened and the tattoo on his arm glowing brightly. "This isn't over," he promised, his voice once more not completely his own. "When Potter's dead, I'm coming right back for you, and this time I'll do it myself." With that said, Draco fell to the ground, eyes closed, and she was afraid he wasn t breathing for a moment.

Had he not needed to give his full attention to the battle above, Hermione believed Voldemort truly would have taken the time to kill her. And she wondered how long before he gained control of Draco again. She fell down on the floor next to him, checking him for signs of a pulse and breathing.

He was weak, but Draco was alive. "Draco?" She spoke his name quietly, unsure of what his reaction to what had just happened would be. He opened his eyes slowly, tears falling down his face as he sat up and backed away from her.

"You get away from me!" Draco snapped, looking around as if confused and unsure of where he was. Hermione reached out to stop him. "Don't touch me!" He shouted, and stood up.

"Draco, it's okay, it's just me!" She said, speaking a bit louder so that he could hear her. "It's okay, he's gone!" He seemed to panic for a moment, turning his head quickly back and forth as he searched for an escape. "Draco," she said his name quietly and he paused, turning his head to look at her slowly.

And there he stood in front of Hermione Granger, a broken soul. She was the last person he wanted to see him like this and yet, in that moment, he was glad it was her rather than anybody else. He knew he looked weak, that he had tears falling down his face, that he must seem like such a tool after what Voldemort had just done.

"I didn't...he just..." Draco tried to explain and found that he couldn't. He finally settled for, "I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded, unsure of how to reply to that, and when he reached out to gently touch her lip with his thumb, indicating the cut that had been reopened by his own hand, Hermione looked away. "It wasn't you," she reminded him quietly as she tried to ignore the feeling of her face bruising.

"I've never wanted to hurt you," he told her suddenly, found the words coming out before he could stop them. "Through the years, every time I said or did something, I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone. It just..."

"You had no choice," he insisted, and she wasn't just talking about the last few minutes.

"Even if that's true, I'm sorry," he told her again, surprised at how easily this muggle born witch was able to make him apologize when he'd spent a lifetime doing anything _but_ that.

Hermione sat there quietly for a moment, then looked up at him. "There's a way to stop him," she told Draco quietly. "To keep him out for good."

"What is it?" He asked quickly, though he knew by the look on her face that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Blood," Hermione told him. And that was all she said of it.

"What about it?" Draco asked, suddenly both hopeful and curious.

She sighed and looked at the floor. "He's a hypocrite, muggle born himself, but he hates us still. He's everything that he hates. I doubt there's any humanity left in him."

"Hermione, what about the blood!" Draco asked, getting impatient and irritated that she was avoiding telling him.

Hermione looked up at him. "My blood in yours would ruin you to him." She watched his face, waiting for his reaction. Draco sat there for a moment, thinking on what she had just told him.

"How?" He asked.

She looked at him as if pleading for him to not ask her that. "It's old magic," Hermione explained. "I've only ever read one reference, and it was brief, vague. I'm not even sure it would work."

"_Hermione_!"

She sighed. "We would have to cut into our hands," Hermione told him. "It couldn't be from a wound caused by accident, it must be self inflicted, a personal, _willing_ sacrifice," she explained, "and then we just mix our blood."

Draco thought for a moment. "But there's a price," he said quietly. And she was surprised that he knew that already. "There's always a bloody price," he added. "Especially with old magics." His blue eyes focused on her. "So what is it?"

She hesitated. "Well, we'd be connected." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for more of an explanation. "Everything about us. Our thoughts, our magic..._everything_."

He was quiet for the longest time, and then he spoke in nearly a whisper, "But it would keep him out. For good?"

"I think so,"Hermione answered quietly, suddenly not so sure. "He can't stand muggle blood, and mine, of everyone's, would repel him better than most." She looked down at the ground. "I understand if you wouldn't want it. It's perfectly natural to..."

"Do it," Draco said suddenly. Hermione didn't look up at him.

"Are you sure?" she asked him quietly. "There's no way to reverse it. You would feel everything I feel, and if I was killed you would..." She looked up finally. The spell worked both ways. She might spare him of Voldemort's possession now, but later when Harry or Ron killed Draco she would die as well. Was it a price she was willing to pay?

Yes.

His entire life, Draco had never been given a choice. And Voldemort taking complete control over him was the final straw. She would not let Voldemort take another man's soul when she could stop it. No matter what the cost.

"Yes, I m sure," Draco said, and his voice reflected just that. There was no doubt, only a slight tone of gratefulness.

"Okay," Hermione replied quietly, looking right into his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**With You **

**Chapter 7**

She sat down on the ground and pulled a knife out of her pocket. When Draco sat in front of her, he gave her a questioning look, and Hermione smiled. "My father always carried a knife around. I guess I just sort of got into the habit of it after..." Her tone softened to silence and they both sat there for a moment. Ginny Weasley had not been the only innocent to fall at Lucius Malfoy's hand.

In that moment, more than ever before, Draco Malfoy was ashamed to be related to such a wizard as Lucius.

"Anyway," Hermione said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "Just a simple cut should do it," she said, slicing her palm just deep enough to bring blood right to the surface. It was painful, had to be, because a paper cut would not work in this instance. They needed the wounds to be just deep enough to mix blood. And yet Hermione did not show any sign of pain as she cut her hand. Draco was amazed as he watched, then took the knife she offered him.

"How do you do that?" he asked, and she raised an eyebrow. "Make it look so easy," he explained, and he wasn't just talking about the cut.

No, Draco was referring to all that Hermione had been through. Watching her muggle father fall at the hands of a wizard she had always hated. Watching her best friends nearly die over and over until one of them finally had. Fighting alone on a battlefield, faced off by wizards beyond her experience by years. Everything about Hermione Granger screamed bravery and perseverance. She amazed him, Draco realized.

"I do what needs to be done," Hermione replied, leaving out the 'when Harry and Ron can't.' But they both knew the truth of it.

Draco looked at her for another moment, wishing he had even an ounce of her courage. And then he looked down at his palm and the knife in his other hand. Voldemort had asked for his blood before. It was not entirely a new action for him to cut into his own flesh, but it was different to do so completely willingly. He looked up at Hermione again.

"Hermione, why are you doing this?" he asked, nearly whispering.

She didn't answer at first, and when she finally did her voice caught in her throat as she fought with her emotions. "I know there's some good in you."

She kept saying that, but this time, in this moment, it somehow meant more. He was so touched he literally couldn't breathe for a moment. She still hadn't given up on the idea that he could be a good person, even after Voldemort himself had taken control of him so easily right in front of her.

Draco sliced his palm quickl, and like Hermione, he too showed no signs of the obvious pain. This came from the unbearable and unwilling practice of doing so, so many times as a Deatheater and a Malfoy. Draco had known true pain in his lifetime, and this was nothing compared to it.

His blue eyes locked with hers as she held her hand out to him, palm facing up. Draco slowly reached out and took her hand gently. His fingers wrapped softly around her wrist and he kept his eyes on hers.

The sting of their wounds was strengthened by the brush of both together. Hermione closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his blood with hers. No longer would they be enemies. Not truly. But then, they had not been enemies for quite some time now.

And how would Harry react? What would Ron think? In that moment she pushed those thoughts and doubts away and just focused on the man in front of her. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice.

"Hermione, look out!" Draco dived towards her, shielding her as best as he could with his own body from the oncoming attack. The ghost whipped past and turned around almost instantly as it started back towards them.

This ghost, Draco realized, was the most violent of all the ghosts he had ever come across in the Slytherin common room. "This isn't good," he said, helping her to her feet. "He's on Voldemort's side," Draco told her, backing them up against the wall so that he could stand in front of her protectively.

"Trying to deceive our Lord?" The ghost asked, his voice booming through the tunnel. "Trying to taint your blood with the filthy whore who stands behind you?"

Hermione stared at the ghost for a moment, then saw the ax in his hand and suddenly knew who he was. "The Nameless Executioner," she said, and he actually smiled, twirling the ax which unlike him was very real, and very _tangible_. He was legend, the violent hunter of witch hunters during the Salem trials and long after.

"Read up on me, have you?"

"What do you want?" Draco demanded, moving Hermione slowly the opposite direction. She wanted to argue with him to stop but was so surprised that Draco was trying to protect her that she didn't know how to react.

"All you've got is a little bloody knife," the Executioner said, laughing, "And the Dark Lord is coming for you." He poined to Draco with the ax. "On his way right now. Wanted me to tell you."

Hermione suddenly realized that if Voldemort was on his way, this ghost probably had strict instructions to not kill them. Voldemort would want to kill them himself. Especially a "traitor" like Draco.

"Doesn't matter," Draco said, sadly. "The spell didn't have time to work, thanks to you." It was probably true, Hermione silently agreed. She had not felt anything change, and she had expected to.

"Tell me, young Malfoy, do you fail at all you do?" the ghost asked, swinging the ax towards them. They ducked just in time, backing away. They had no wands, no way of defending themselves against a ghost.

Hermione searched her brain, mentally skimming each and every book she had ever read for a way to get this ghost away without their wands. And suddenly it came to her.

"_Denicalis_!" Wandless magic was very difficult to perform, dangerous at times even when you succeeded, but they were desperate as the ghost continued to swing his ax at them. However, when Hermione spoke that word, holding a hand out towards the Executioner up over Draco s shoulder and past his face, the ghost froze. And then he simply disappeared.

Draco turned to look at Hermione, who still held her trembling arm out towards where the ghost had just been, her eyes wide with fear and doubt. He gently took hold of her hand and guided her arm down, back to her side.

She was much more powerful than he had known, and he guessed that she had not known the extent of her power either judging by the shocked look on her face. "He's gone," Draco said quietly, unsure of how else to calm Hermione. "It's okay, he s gone," Draco repeated when she did not react.

Hermione turned her eyes and looked at him, then leaned back against the wall and fell to sit with her head in her hands. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if the spell worked."

"It's okay, really," he told her, though he was overwhelmed with both disappointment and fear that Voldemort would take control of him again.

"We can't even try it again," she said sadly, looking up at him. "It only works once, and when the chance is gone, it's gone."

He took her hands gently and wrapped them around the handle of her knife. "If he comes back," Draco said, his tone serious, "kill me." She opened her mouth to argue, but he would not let her. "I would rather die than let him take you." She closed her mouth and looked into his eyes, surprised by what she had just been told.

_(denicalis -e [releasing from death])_


	8. Chapter 8

**With You **

**Chapter 8**

She could not argue that she could never kill anyone. She had proved that wrong over and over, even right in front of him before they'd fallen into this situation.

For the longest time she could think of nothing to say, and even when she did, it sounded pathetic. "I could never do that." Her voice sounded small, like a pebble that hit the bottom of a very deep well. She pushed the knife back towards him gently, and then she waited for the question, the one she dreaded answering. Because what she thought was the answer frightened her more than anything.

"Why not?" Draco asked, still looking into her eyes, still looking past the years they had hated each other and focusing only on the present.

She looked away from him, couldn't hold the Slytherin's gaze any longer. And she was trembling where she stood. "I just couldn't," was Hermione's reply.

"He'll kill you," Draco promised. "If he takes me again, he'll kill you, and I promise it won't be painless." He moved the knife back into her hands. "You have to promise to kill me, if it happens again!"

"Draco, don't ask me to do this!" she screamed, tears forming in her eyes. They seemed endless, always on the brink, never stoppable. She hadn't stopped crying since their fall. Not truly.

"I'm not asking!" he snapped darkly, glaring at her. And for a moment it seemed like old times. Any second now he would tell her what a mudblood whore she was and how much he hated and despised her.

"I can't."

"Don't tell me what you can't do!" he yelled. "Didn't you see yourself, with the wandless magic!" he asked. "You've got to be bloody powerful to be able to cast a spell like that and succeed against one of Voldemort's servants. It was brilliant! So, don't tell me you can't kill me, because we both know you've got more strength in you than you think!"

In that moment she realized something, something that both amazed and scared her. "I do now!" she snapped, and he literally took a step away from her, surprised that Hermione was yelling at him. She was glaring as well. "Didn't you see what hand I used?" she asked, holding her cut hand up to show him. "Draco, that spell wasn't cast by me, it was cast by _us_!"

He thought about that for a moment. Then he scoffed and turned his back to her, leaning against the wall with his good hand, looking down at his cut hand. "I'm too weak to do anything like that. What makes you think my blood made the difference?"

He felt her hand on his shoulder, and he hadn't even heard her walk over. "You are anything but weak, Draco." And he loved the sound of his name in her voice. She spoke it quietly, so unlike everyone else who had ever used it to scold, to bicker, to argue, to insult. No one had ever shown him the least bit of kindness. Not even in their tone of voice.

"The only way we're going to make it out of here alive is working together," she said, speaking so quietly he only heard her because she was leaning her chin on his shoulder ever so lightly.

"When we find a way out, things will go one of two ways," Draco told her, staring at the wall as he spoke. "Either the Deatheaters will take you and torture you until Voldemort demands the chance to kill you himself. Or Potter and Weasley will rush up and beat me senseless before killing me, because I'm obviously the reason you'll be all cut up and bruised." He winced, thinking back on how Voldemort had slapped her. She was bruising. But he had to keep telling himself that it wasn't him. "Either way," he paused, turning his face to look at hers. She was so close now. "We _both_ die."

What he was saying made sense, and she hadn't even considered it until now. "The spell may not have worked," Hermione insisted, trying to bring even the smallest amount of hope to the moment.

"You just told me you think it did," he replied. And she had. Hermione hadn't come right out and said it, but the more she thought on it the more likely it seemed that the spell had worked.

"I could be wrong," she whispered.

The corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly as he looked at her, whispering back, "Hermione, you're never wrong." She matched the soft smile, then jumped back in surprise. There was water splashing down on her, one drip at a time.

They both looked up at the ceiling right above their heads. "Where could it be coming from?" Draco asked. "Old pipes?"

"Not sure," she replied, looking hard at the ceiling as if it would give up the answers. "But I think we should probably..." She would have finished by saying 'move' but that was when the ceiling seemed to fall down around them.

Hermione tackled Draco, throwing them both aside in an instinctive move that saved their lives. They backed away from where the water had rushed down, soaking them, and watched as the water poured until finally settling down a bit. And now the ceiling all around them was leaking. It was like rain. Only colder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wiping some wet hair away from his eyes as he looked at her. Draco Malfoy actually looked genuinely concerned. Hermione sat up and smiled.

"Just a bit cold now," she replied, leaning her back against the wall.

"Thank you," he told her. How she continued to get him to say that was beyond him. "How did you know it would fall like that?" Draco sat next to her, his back against the wall as well.

"Common sense," she replied.

"Oh. Right." Draco wasn't about to tell her how she was making it harder and harder for _him_ to focus on anything, let alone common sense. He didn't want to admit it to himself, and he wasn't ready to admit it to her. But, he figured, she already knew deep down what was happening.

Her wet hair and clothes were clinging to her, and she shivered, not bothering to try to fix her hair or clothes. Hermione just didn't care how she looked anymore. And he thought she looked beautiful. Even more so than usual. There was something about her that the water droplets brought out, a glow to her skin that he hadn't noticed until now.

"What?" Hermione asked, and he realized he had been openly staring.

"Shouldn't I be able to hear your thoughts now?" he asked, grinning slightly.

"That's not how the spell works," Hermione replied, laughing. "Which is a good thing, because I wouldn't want to see whatever you're thinking." It was supposed to be teasing, but his face became serious, and she was afraid she had offended him.

"You may be surprised," he told her, his hand reaching out to move some hair away from her face. Hermione turned her face away before he could touch her, not quite sure why she did so, but determined that it was the right choice no matter what the feeling in her stomach told her.

"It can't be a coincidence," she commented, changing the subject. "The pipe breaking right on top of us. Someone's trying to kill us. If we hadn't moved, the boards from the ceiling alone would have killed us."

If he was disappointed by her brush off and dismissal, Draco didn't show it. But then he was good at hiding his feelings. Very good. Usually. "Well I think at this point it's safe to assume that whoever is trying to kill us, they're not on _your_ side," Draco said, sighing.

She felt slightly guilty. If Draco thought that Harry's side never killed, well then he had both forgotten the battle they had been in only hours before and the way she had acted. "War changes everyone," was all she said, hoping that her friends wouldn't be willing to kill her to get to Draco.


	9. Chapter 9

**With You **

**Chapter 9**

_I'm too weak to do anything like that. What makes you think my blood made the difference?_ Had he really fucking said that? There they were, wandless and who knew how far underground by now, and he was admitting weakness. If his father could only see him now.

Draco walked with Hermione in silence for the longest time before finally asking her, "What are you going to tell them about the spell if it _did_ work? Weasley and Potter? Assuming we make it that bloody far."

She seemed to consider this for a moment, staring ahead at the dark corridor with that annoyingly thoughtful look on her face. He could see it in the way she stared at the shadows, eyes darting to any slight movement, that while she was on edge she was still very much considering his words carefully before answering. "I'm not going to," Hermione finally commented. There was a finality to her tone, but Draco had never been one to follow spoken orders let alone unspoken commands.

"You're not going to tell them?" he asked, scoffing in disbelief. "Gr-Hermione, you realize that they'll kill us, right? They won't hesitate to destroy me, and if they don't know it'll destroy you then-"

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, reaching up to attempt to brush some drying hair away from her tear-filled eyes as she looked at him. But the hair had dried against her forehead, and eventually she simply gave up on it and let her hand fall at her side. "I know," Hermione assured Draco quietly. "But at this point, do you really believe there's any other possible outcome?"

He watched her, looking into her eyes, and then-very carefully as it was a completely unusual move for him-he raised one of his slender hands and brushed the hair aside that she hadn't been able to get. The connection of his fingertips to the cold skin of her face sent an almost electrical jolt through his arm, but Draco ignored it and kept his hand there, fingertips resting against the side of her face. He wanted to put his entire hand against her skin, but he was afraid.

Afraid of what it might mean.

But now, studying her eyes, he realized something that made him even more fearful. "You _want_ to die," he whispered.

"Don't be silly," Hermione insisted, moving her face away from his touch. His arm fell to his side, and Draco continued to look into her eyes in a way that made her both uncomfortable and hopeful.

She was trying to hide it, but he saw it. It was very much _there._ It was there and it startled him that she-Hermione bloody Granger, the best witch of their age who defied all prejudices with her ability to become so strong despite her lacking heritage-wanted death, nay truly _longed_ for it. She was supposed to be the epitome of strength. Even before this, before their fall and uneasy friendship-or whatever it was-Draco had always seen her as the strongest of the lot of them.

And yet here she was, hoping for an end.

"Hermione-"

"Can we just not do this?" she asked, laughing as if it weren't a big deal. There was a hollowness to her laughter now though, a hesitance to show how she truly felt. And Draco was no stranger to the art of denial.

"Sure," he replied as he started walking again, assuming she would follow.

She did. In silence, no less, eyes ever watchful, hand at her side trying to grasp the phantom wand she no longer had out of habit. "We should be directly beneath the Slytherin common rooms by now," she commented eventually, staring up at the broken ceiling.

Draco looked around and realized she was right. He recognized this area a bit-not that he'd been here before, but the architecture (which differentiated between house common rooms as much as their founders) gave itself away as Slytherin. There was a coldness to the stone walls around them, an unwelcoming indifference. Draco had often wondered if all of the common rooms were like this, gave off this air, but the more he thought about it the more he realized this probably wasn't the case. It had been home to him for years now, but that was simply because his family's mansion wasn't much different.

"We need a plan," he commented, once more pausing in his walking to take a seat on a nearby fallen pillar. He was _tired_, not just physically but mentally, and honestly he wanted nothing more than to lie down on his side and sleep right there. But they really did need a plan, and the way Hermione was looking at him now showed she wasn't quite following his train of thought.

"We can't just prance out into the school corridors and pretend nothing happened," Draco explained. "If the spell worked-"

"It might not have."

"-it'll mean we're connected now," he reminded her, ignoring her argument. "So we need something to tell them, no matter which side we run into first."

Hermione slumped down to take a seat beside him, favoring her injured arm now. It was aching, probably beginning to become infected, and there was nothing they could do about it down here.

"First things first, we find the hospital wing," she commented quietly. "I need to put this in a sling," she commented, pointing to her arm, "and you could use some stitches on that." She motioned to the cut on his forehead.

"Some what?" he asked.

"Stitches," Hermione replied, glancing at him. And then she realized that the wizarding world had never had use for stitches. They could fix most everything with a potion or magic. "It means we're going to have to sew the cut closed if we can't find something else that'll help," she explained.

Draco thought about that for a moment, then reached up to brush his fingers against the cut gently. It had long since scabbed over, but the touch sent a jolt of pain through his face.

"It's going to scar," he realized, and his tone was casual despite what he was saying. Of all the wounds Lucius had ever inflicted, none had scarred. Magic was useful that way, when you wanted to hide your abusive habits from the rest of the wizarding world so that no one questioned how you ran things at home. The irony of the nickname 'Scarhead' becoming fitting for him as well did not escape Draco, and he frowned at the thought of it.

"If we run into the Order, I'll simply explain that you're a prisoner, and you'll be treated well," Hermione announced, unaware of his worries. "We've taken a few prisoners already," she continued, "and while the prisoners themselves haven't been to pleasant to us, we've treated them decently. Worst case scenario you're locked up for the rest of your life."

Draco considered that and decided that it couldn't be any worse than staying at Malfoy Manor over the summers. His expression darkened considerably, however, when he realized that it was his turn to tell her what would happen if they ran into Death Eaters first.

"Voldemort isn't as kind to his prisoners," Draco said, knowing that he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, but needing to voice it anyway so that she understood. "He lets us…he lets _them_ torture and toy with anyone taken prisoner. Most he'll even let them kill, but you…next to Potter, you're his most desired victim." Draco had yet to realize he was vocally setting himself apart from the other Death Eaters, but Hermione caught on to it and decided it best not to mention.

Instead, she nodded, sighing quietly as she looked at him and waited for him to continue. It bothered Draco that she didn't seem surprised to learn any of this, because she had no idea what was in store for her if the Death Eaters found them. No bleeding idea at all.

"It isn't just wounding violence that you have to worry about either," he added, glancing at her. For a moment Hermione looked confused, and then she followed his gaze to her neckline where her dirtied and torn shirt hung low, revealing cleavage that had only recently developed over the last couple of years. Draco had to wonder if she realized how beautifully her chest moved as she breathed.

"You mean they'll-" Hermione couldn't even finish that thought. She knew Death Eaters were cruel, but she'd assumed they would hate a 'Mudblood' too much to ever even consider rape.

"Our best bet if the Death Eaters find us first is to kill each other," he told her.

"You can't be serious," she spat, glaring at him in disgust. "I won't give in that easily!"

"It's not giving in," he assured her quickly, his blue eyes locking with her gaze. "If you let them take you alive, we'll both be begging for death within moments. I'm not exaggerating here, Hermione. They will do things to you that you haven't even considered, things no human being should ever even think to do let alone to another living person, and they will keep you alive as long as they can to prolong the agony."

She became quiet, a thoughtful look on her face as she mentally went over what he'd told her. "What will they do to you for breaking your connection with Voldemort?" she asked, glancing down at her cut hand. She realized suddenly that the Death Eaters were all probably informed by now that Draco had tainted his blood to keep Voldemort out. That made him an enemy to them, possibly even higher on the list than Harry.

When she looked up at him, Draco was smiling the sad smile of a man who had accepted his fate.

"It's best we find your friends first," he told her. "At least they'll kill us quickly."


End file.
